


Manservant

by wanderingsmith



Series: Serve and Protect [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9135373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: "How d'y'all meet?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em.
> 
> I don't mean to hog the feed... someone must have dropped carrots around -shrug-, it'll stop when I have to back to work and my brain gets re-routed
> 
> This one was an old spark off of VillaKulla's Ashes. I hope the lady will forgive my letting the bunny out into the 'net...
> 
> I tried to keep to a few of the lines of the scene, albeit with a bit of interpretive licensing....

"Should we talk somewhere more private?"

The boy rubbed him wrong for some reason, and Goody couldn't help but enjoy his squirmin' at their oh, so palatial surroundings. "Naw, I like it right here. Billy," Goody looked at Billy with a grin, "You like it here?" He felt the grin drop raggedly when he took the roll-up waiting for him, returning a grateful hum to Billy's mutter of general acquiescence with anything Goody rambled about, and then he made himself pull the grin back on as he turned back to his waiting audience. 

"How d'y'all meet?"

"How *did* we meet, Billy?" He took a slow breath of the calming smoke as he drank in Billy's still-hyper features in a quick glance, still sometimes shocked to have this man at his side. 

Come on, Robicheaux, cheer yourself up, man! "Well, Billy here needed a manservant, and I needed some money," he shrugged casually as the gambler choked on his drink and the farmer's mouth dropped, "Match made in heaven!" When he threw another quick glance at Billy, those pitch-black eyes were waiting for him and he got the tiny twitch that was the man's public smirk. He heard the farmer give a very disbelieving grunt and turned to him with a smirk of his own.

"*You're* *his* manservant??"

Sometimes he really wanted to yell at people. But he kept his mask on, raising his brows in pleased enthusiasm, "Indeed I am. Collecting his pay from the ungrateful public, serving meals," he waved in Billy's direction, knowing that by now the adrenaline would have settled and he'd be chowing down. "Trim his beard," he always wanted to add something about combing that beautiful hair when he did this play, but never trusted himself to keep the lust off his face, "Not a bad job." He had to tone down the smirk to keep the laughter from escaping at his own joke before he added, "And he's a kindly employer-"

"You a lousy manservant."

Billy rarely joined in these little shows, and that comeback almost made Goody choke, but he carefully slapped the hand with the roll-up to his heart, throwing a laughing look at the man watching him as he ate, "I am *hurt*! Why, Billy, I thought you appreciated all I do for you??" Well *damn*, he better brace himself; those eyes had actual *devilry* in them! He'd really enjoyed getting to hairpin that fool, hadn't he??

"I always have to sharpen your shaving knife and your food is terrible."

Goody snorted, lips wobbling wildly with laughter, the stoic digs as old as their partnership. He pointed the smoke at his 'employer', ignoring the barber trying to shave *him*, though he saw Billy's eyes track the knife near his neck, "But I make the best damn coffee!"

Billy actually rewarded him with a shrug (as well he should, considering he'd actually begged for Goody to go out, start a fire and make him a cup before this morning's work). But then pointedly shoveled bland, and no doubt overcooked, rice into his mouth, making Goody's lips twitch to keep a fond smile to himself.

He heard the gambler give a choked snort before starting to laugh, but when he turned back to them, the farmer was back to frowning at him. "Mr. Chisolm told us to come fetch you. But he didn't say anythin' about your friend over there."

Goody dropped the grin, eyes narrowing in warning, "Where I go, Billy goes." The danger in anyone even hinting at separating them made jitters sneak past the smoke's calm, almost setting his hand to trembling again.

"Thought you were his manservant."

The gambler was going to be a problem. Even if it was lazy laughter, now, there was too much knowing in those eyes. The jitters got worse, but damned if he was going to let the bastard win so easy; he could keep a damn *stare* up. "Where Billy goes, I go. No difference."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joline got me thinking... and had to write a bit more to the timeline.

Pulling back from the fatherly pats Sam's effusive welcome had degenerated into, he saw Billy's shape move in his periphery, almost certainly arguing with Goody's stubborn horse, and Goody waved toward him, "Billy Rocks. He's with me." The words were automatic, used often enough when he for some reason agreed to accompany people. People who might know *his* name, but needed reminding that insults to Billy were insults to their 'great' Goodnight Robicheaux.

He'd have likely remembered to add to the stark statement for his old friend, but the half-drunk gambler beat him to it stiffly, "Sam, ah, Goodnight, he work for Billy. So Billy came with."

Goodnight was busy shaking his head watching him just about fall off the horse, and so missed Sam's first reaction. His second reaction was loud enough to draw his attention, though.

"Work??" When Goody turned his head, for a moment feeling his usual fury at people who doubted he'd 'work' for Billy, he instead caught the laughter on Sam's face and realized this was just Sam, teasing him as usual.

Shaking his head at the man, he caught sight of the lady he'd seen behind Sam as they rode in, and rather than get into his and Billy's relationship without Billy present, he switched the subject, "Who's this?"

"We work for *her*."

Goody had to smirk at the irony of that line before he went to introduce himself as he'd been taught, hearing the gambler walking up behind him.

"I don't know about that beltfull of pigstickers, but that Billy can hairpin a fellow real neat-like."

Goody smirked to himself at Sam's disbelieving reply of "Hairpin??", toning it down as he called out to the worried-looking lady.

\---

By the time they bivouaced for the night, Goody'd forgotten the story he'd told Faraday and the annoying Teddy. A few hours catching up with Sam and getting the details of their little job, not to mention exchanging barbs with the two scoundrels they rode with: it was enough to make him want a room with a door to be able to breathe behind.

That not being available, he focused on making camp. Until he was pulling their cooking supplies out and he heard the gambler speak up from somewhere behind him, "Sam, I don't think we want to be having Goodnight near them there pots; Billy says he can't cook worth a damn."

Billy happened to be only a foot away, dropping off his riffle next to Goody's, and Goody actually heard his snort, giving him a wry glare as Sam's laughter rang out, "Don't you worry, Faraday, I wouldn't let Goodnight Robicheaux near anything but jerky and tack."

Rolling his eyes at the stilted laughter of the others, Goody took the coffee fixins and both their riffles and slammed the fixins next to Sam's fire, planning to ignore the lot of them. Wasn't like he could deny his cooking wasn't up to Billy's, let along his mamma's.

He was starting to think Sam was actually going to let the story go without question, until he had the water heating up and picked up Billy's riffle to check over. Then the sarcasm came out. "My my, it IS nice to see you actually working for once, I *must* say."

Billy sat down besides him with food that he'd no doubt make into something edible as Goody looked up from cleaning the riffle barrel, shaking his head with a grin, "Sam-"

"No no, I'm proud of you, Goody. Better late than never, I always say," Goody watched the shining 'pride' shift to sympathy as the pain in the ass turned to Billy, "However, I can't help but feel that someone should have warned you, Mr. Rocks, that southern gentry make *terrible* servants."

"Hey!" Goody shook the riffle, glaring playfully, "I'm makin' 'im coffee and cleanin' his gun, don't that count?"

The farmer snickered off to the side, "Hope you don't pay 'im much."

More laughter rang out as Goody muttered to himself, wondering if he could pull off a credible pout. Then Billy's hand landed on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze, and when he looked over at him, he got an actual wink, even with the company around! The always-surprising man even answered back the hecklers, "Fifty fifty," his eyes stayed locked to Goody's, the gossamer threads of a smile on his face that only Goody would see, "Equal shares."

The fool farmer still didn't catch on, apparently. "You pay a *servant*-" But Sam thankfully interrupted him and finally put the story to rest, "I don't expect they mean servant quite the way most folks do, Teddy. You have to read between Mr. Robicheaux's extravagant lines, sometimes."

Goody blinked away from Billy's look, giving Sam a nod of thanks. He was tired enough not to feel like spinning another story, tonight; hopefully Sam's line in the sand would keep things quiet for a bit.

Billy's shoulder knocking his pulled him back to his friend just as the whiff of familiar smoke reached him and he felt his shoulders drop in relief, reaching for the roll-up Billy'd automatically lit him, murmuring a soft "Mon cher", knowing Billy'd read all he really meant on his face.

With the first draw of smoke coating his lungs, he calmly turned back to the water starting to boil, ignoring Sam's watching eyes. He wasn't worried the warrant officer was going to care about Goody's private life, let along about the things Billy'd been forced to do in his past. He might not plan to open his heart to the man, but he wasn't going to try to hide, either. And Billy'd obviously already figured that out.

"Don't burn the coffee."

"Billy!! That was only the damn *once*," Billy's face was firmly on his pot of stew, but Goody could see his eyes were looking at him, laughter in every line of his face, the damn pest! "You just *see* if I ever shave you again, you ingrate." he managed to huff as though insulted and turned to work on the riffle in his lap before his shoulders started to shake. Damn. If Billy started joining in like this, he was going to have his work cut out for him!

"Billy?"

"Umm?"

"Don't forget to sharpen that hairpin. I'd hate for you to miss out having your fun showing off with the next idiot we meet." And Goody'd miss out on his being a hyper bastard like this again!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enough staring at this, damn it!!  
> ..as soon as I post I'm going to come up with 10 ideas for making it better... -glares at annoying chapter-

For all that it was a communal thing and that Goody was far from the only loquacious fellow of the bunch, eating supper was on the quiet side. The little groups that Sam had picked up, each with their own food, all straggling near the fire. Mostly eating the same canned beans or stew with whatever else they had handy, or were inspired to make. Or barter.

Billy's cornbread, for example, ended up the object of several attempts at paltry exchange from Mrs.Cullen and Teddy, as well as (blade)sharp'ly-deflected thievery from Faraday. That boy was going to come to a bad end if he thought he could annoy Billy and not pay the price.

The rarely-made Southern treat had been learned during one of their brief associations with former Louisiana Confederates. And regardless of the stories Billy tried to bullshit him with ("Way to use up milk you buy and not finish." indeed!), it was most assuredly only for a homesick (and helpless to make for himself) Goody. He'd actually caught Billy grimacing at the flavour, once, when he was drunk enough to forget to hide. Goody had just about bawled like a babe from the surge of pure affection he'd felt. And had insisted Billy didn't need to do such things.

They'd compromised on 'occasionnaly as a treat'; which Goody knew meant whenever Billy knew Goody's weaknesses were under stress.

And so on this company-filled evening, when he'd seen the makings come out, Goody had brightened up eagerly, only looking away from the seemingly simple proceedings when he felt someone come too close.

Vasquez gave him a careful nod when Goody looked up at him in polite curiosity, "That stew smell mighty good, 'Noche," he held out his plateful of beans, "Been on beans a while. You open to splitting portions?"

Those so-ordinary beans on offer immediately had most of Goody's attention, smelling Billy's cornbread frying up besides him and almost *tasting* the familiar mix of flavours, but he managed to stop drooling long enough to give the Mexican a raised brow, "Noch- ah," Goody grinned, quick and open, "That's a sweeter-sounding use of the name than many I heard as a boy." Goody snagged his empty plate from the pile of supplies and held it for Vasquez to unload half his meal, then, after a quick glance to Billy for permission to touch his pots, refilled the man's plate with some of the herbed-up dish that had drawn the man.

By the time Vasquez nodded gratitude and sauntered away to sit against a rock wall, Billy was holding out a piece of bread to him and Goody barely remembered to slip half his beans on Billy plate and 'serve' him some stew with it as well, winking at Billy's dry look when he was handed a plate with an ingratiating seated bow; then Goody blithely ignored the brouhaha as Billy fended off the vultures from the rest of the bread, and instead focused on carefully crumbling some of the treat on his beans and stew, and then sighed in rare *pleasant* nostalgia at the familiar taste. The only reason he wasn't piling on his whole share was that he'd spotted what he was sure was honey in Billy's bag of treats! Volcano Springs' general store must have made a pretty penny off his man while Goody packed them up after he and Faraday had killed a bottle of rotgut under Teddy's disapproving eye and Billy's pretending-to-sleep ones.

Billy's pre-supper smoke and well-planned surprise had eased enough of his tension from the day and the danger on the horizon that Goody had quotes and stories bubbling up as he licked the honey and crumbs from his fingers. He was entirely content to take up his role and liven up the stilted evening a bit with Billy sitting reassuringly close by his side, idly sharpening that cheap knife that was all Goody could get him when they had that unpleasant spell in the Dakotas. Why he still carried that thing with the rest of the fine arsenal he now had...

He stopped and snapped his fingers in the middle of describing the first time Billy'd gone and thrown a knife against some loudmouthed rancher's gun, turning from the general direction of the gambler who seemed to appreciate Billy's skills toward his old friend, observing silently, as usual. "Sam, I always meant to write you about this find I made in Galveston, but I don't think I ever did. Even translated, it's heartfelt and practical," he grinned at Sam's rolled eyes, "Knew *you'd* love it. How did that one- oh yes! 'My words are like a ship-" Now, Goody knew damned well that Billy was perfectly capable of cleaning his own firearms, yet as he put his knife away, he still handed Goody his Colt -along with an unsubtle dig in the ribs-, not even a line into Goody's recitation of a bit of Rumi! And it wasn't that Goody couldn't clean and load a gun in his sleep while reciting *Hamlet*, even, but he had to stop and give his man a suspicious frown for just how often the timing lined up. One of these days he might start believing Billy didn't like poetry. Since he knew for a pleasantly-proven fact that his *voice* wasn't objected to.

Giving up on Billy's best blank look when the man got up, Goody reached for the cleaning supplies he'd set aside so recently, and for the hundredth time or so in a decade, he wished he could get his hands on some Korean books. Though the time they'd gone through Galveston and Goody'd found that good-sized bookseller with the rare treasures, the look he'd gotten for his request had been... *interesting*. And discouraging; seems he might as well have asked for books written by the man on the moon!

"Lose your ship, 'Noche?"

Goody looked up at the taunt and blinked at the circle of eyes watching him curiously. Damn. His hand twitched on his bag even as he pulled his crowd-grin back on. He was too damn used to camp chatter with Billy where he would simply cut off the repeat of a story when Billy pulled his attention. The group had been too quiet to keep him in proper saloon-crowd mode.

"My apologies gentelmen, Mrs. Cullen. I'm afraid duty calls," he winked at Sam as he stood to turn toward the man waiting for him silently at the edge of the trees, "Rumi's heartfelt lines have waited several hundred years to be enjoyed by your ever so humble selves, a 'Buenas Noche' of labour for my fellow man will only lend my heart a deeper understanding of them that I can then impart-" He chuckled to himself at the groan he suspected was from Faraday.

"He better clean your gun really good for that fifty fifty share."

Goody almost turned at the farmer's half-laughing half-snide call, until he noticed the wrinkle next to Billy's eyes just before he turned to walk away from camp without bothering with a reply. Goody followed the internally-laughing pest after shouting back to the *outright*-laughing jackals, "Gotta make up for being a lousy manservant *somehow*!"

The hollow they'd camped in sent the annoying Teddy's voice following him as he went uphill after his man. "What are they doing?"

Goody had to strain his ears to catch the gambler's lazy reply, "Well, Teddy, seeing as Billy was carrying their shaving gear, I'd say Billy's gonna sharpen himself another blade, and at least one of 'em 's gonna get shaved."

"I just don't see payin' a-"

"Teddy!" Goody grinned to himself at the fair lady's exasperated tone, even as it faded with distance, "He doesn't *pay* him! They're obviously *partners*."

 

Billy led him off a merry way through the unpleasantly dark woods, but it was worth it when Goody saw the little clearing well out of voice-range of their comrades that the man'd somehow found.

He made himself shrug back into its corner the tension that had crept between his shoulders, instead focusing gratefully on Billy as he sat down in a patch of moonlight and set the cloth holding their shaving gear down with his hat. Also setting down a cup, likely with water warmed by the fire; and Goody snorted softly, remembering the time he'd been a little inattentive and had ended up dipping a brush in his abandoned cup of that unfortunate burnt coffee instead of the water he'd been using to work through knots. It had worked well enough, mind you! 

Certainly better than it had gone down the gullet...

Coming closer, Goody raised the Colt he'd automatically carried with him, though his eyes followed Billy as he took his throwing pin out, "Were you actually wanting me to clean this for you?"

Billy grinned at him, teeth flashing with the light surrounding him, "You say you my servant, but tell me to sharpen my pins. *You* clean guns."

Goody hummed agreeably, distracted as the second pin came out and a slick, black waterfall uncoiled down Billy's back. He might believe a different man had picked his spot carelessly. Billy, on the other hand, knew every one of Goody's weaknesses. And watching moonlight shine on that midnight hair had been known to reduce him to a moan.

That he knew Billy's showmanship was as at play by deliberately travelling with an unsecured knot so he could casually do this to Goody as Goody's had resulted in the birth of their manservant gig only made him love the subtly flamboyant bastard more. There'd been a time or three that Billy'd ended up fighting off unfriendly fellow travellers of the West with his hair getting in the way of his knives, but he'd yet to admit that it wasn't a sure thing that he could get through a whole fight without needing to use that second pin. At least he no longer argued wearing the knucklebusters Goody'd gotten him; even when they weren't walking into a fight.

The gun, supplies, and his hat, went on the grass near Billy's hand, where those beautifully carved steel pins already waited for the touch of a sharpening stone, and Goody carefully slipped to his knees on the hard ground, his fingers immediately sliding into the soft silk on offer as Billy dropped his head forward to splay it out. He signed out a long breath of ease, murmuring low so as not to interfere with Lady Moonlight's magic, "Have I ever told you, mon cher, that your hair is softer than the softest silk?"

"Yeah, you have."

Goody smiled to himself, hearing the affectionate dry humour in the words, and leaned in to brush his rough cheek against the slightly dusty strands, "Well, it's still true." Damn that hair really was so damn soft! He could sit here all night, just remembering all the times it'd been stroked over his bare skin. His collarbone, or that spot just below his shoulder blades that sent him gibbering-

He felt a gentle knock against his thigh, "Just brush it out, Goody, and then I shave your cheeks."

With utmost reluctance, Goody pulled his fingers out of their little piece of Heaven to slide them slowly along Billy's rough digits to take the familiar handle of his favourite boar brush, and then sat back enough to work. "And what, pray tell, do you have planned that my rough cheeks would interfere with?"

"Riding tomorrow and not listening to you complain about itchy skin."

Goody snorted at the carefully-spoken, too-true dig, static creating a halo around his lover, no matter how careful the first stroke of his brush. He'd watched his sisters do this for each other, evenings when they were all young; just as well he'd paid attention, considering Billy's lack of care for anything but his martial abilities, when they'd first met. It had taken some mighty sweet talking on his part to convince the man to let Goody take the long passes from scalp to tip, over and over, with anything like the grace he freely gave every knife practise. At first he'd barely get a handful of minutes in before Billy'd shrug him away with muttered Korean that Goody didn't doubt had been extremely rude. Distracting him by talking his ear off had helped, some, or using the time to have him teach Goody some of his confounding tongue, but it was only after Goody'd admitted just how arousing he found the act that he was allowed to spend all the time he liked bringing a healthy shine and softness to the whole mess.

It wasn't remotely safe for them to do anything more than this anywhere near the camp, and he *would* be miserable if he had to ride with two days of whiskers on his cheeks. But...

"I could take my time now and shave my own cheeks tomorrow."

Moonlight rippled as Billy's shoulder shook with laughter, "Tomorrow, you have to trim my beard."

Oh wouldn't THAT just make the farmer, and Sam, go on! "Tempting."

"Thought you'd like it."

Billy's hair wasn't that bad after just a couple days; he was already letting Goody pet him much longer than he needed to. Which Goody knew was mostly for the sake of his nerves, but he wasn't about to complain. Not least because he knew Billy enjoyed this ritual plenty himself, nowdays. Neither of them were fully comfortable in company other than each other, anymore, regardless of Goody's practiced patter.

The moon had shifted away from them by the time he couldn't pretend to be doing anything but caressing, anymore, and finally set down the brush. Unwilling to give up being together just yet, he wrapped his arms around Billy's sides, resting his face on the clean strands that would soon get coiled up into a safe, unnoticeable bun under Billy's hat.

"We should finish up, Goody. Water get cold."

"I know." But neither of them moved, even if Goody's knees were starting to complain and Billy's patience with sitting still and listening to crickets was no doubt long gone.

A gloved hand finally settled on his knee, "A few more nights and we be in a town and have a room."

"Ummm. Lovely thought." He further rewarded the gentle words by nosing into the collar of Billy's shirt to brush his beard against the warm skin and drop a kiss that tasted of the sweat from their hasty travels, "*You* are lovely."

He fully expected the snort that shook his armful. "You want to put it up?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"I only used spare. You use other so I work without annoyances."

"One man's annoyances-"

"Are another's sex toys." Goody was gently shifted back when Billy turned to give him a firm look, invisible as his actual eyes were in the darkness, "But not tonight."

This time he *did* pout, knowing he had no credibility to lose, here, "Oh fine. Give me that weapon you so enjoy laying your head on, and I'll practice being a good manservant."

Instead of handing him that dangerous piece of metal, Billy rose to his knees and turned around, golden skin veiled in long strands of darkness, hands with their rough gloves coming up to cup Goody's jaw, the tilt and lean to kiss as familiar as breathing.

It wasn't safe. But damned if he'd say no to a kiss before going to sleep alone.

Sitting back on his heel and letting Billy take this anywhere he chose, his hands low on Billy back, knuckles tickled by more of the same silk surrounding their faces. Slide and tug of lips, glide of tongue, slow and tender; on the edge of arousing.

When Billy pulled back, it was with a low swear word, beating Goody to the complaint, "Not tonight."

Letting the man pull back and reach for the shaving supplies, Goody sat himself down more comfortably, watching those smooth, economical movement with a soft smile. "Thank you for the cornbread."

Cloth, wet with lukewarm water landed on his cheeks without his words being acknowledged. "Hold that."

Goody was tempted to point out that the little shaving he required could have easily been done at the same time as Billy's (unnecessary) trim, but Billy laid a finger on his lips, "Why say you trim beard and never say brush hair?" Billy gave him the delightful wicked smirk reserved only for him, "Too much truth?"

Goody gave him a teasingly fulminating glare, "Oh now don't you try. You know very well why! It would be utterly obvious to anyone looking at me just what I want to do with your hair." He counted it a victory to see that pleased, wide-open grin flash at him again in response.

"You mean what *I* do with hair."

Goody's laugh cracked out, his grin matching Billy's tooth for tooth, "Yes. That."

Watching Billy's continuing happy smile as he took the cloth away and started to water-shave Goody's cheeks with a blade that he kept so sharp Goody had to steel himself to use it with his damned hands, these days, Goody couldn't help but wish that others saw this man the way that *he* got to. The open teasing and caring. The tender fire in his heart and the laughing light in his soul. He was the unworthiest lucky bastard to be the *one* man it was given to. If he *could* cook, he would gratefully serve Billy a five course feast every day. If he thought Billy would let him get away with it, he'd do his laundry and brush his horse. As it was, he tried his best to make sure Billy knew how precious he was.

When the blade was done one of his cheeks, he drawled softly, "You look 10 years younger when you smile, you know."

Billy replied with a distinct smirk as he started the other side, "And you look 10 years older."

With that blade gliding on his skin, all Goody could do for a reply was to widen his eyes, at least until Billy was done. Then he grabbed the man's shirt collar, careful not to pinch skin, and grinned as he jerked his still-smirking lover close, knowing Billy'd have the knife away from either of them. He lowered his voice into a low rumble, the laughter shaking it nullifying any attenpt at a threat, "Are you implying, Billy Rocks, that I'm robbin' the cradle by doing this?"

There was nothing slow or tender, this time. Tongue and teeth, and even a growl, just to hear Billy make that snicker that would turn into a giggle if Goody put some effort into it. Instead he sucked his tongue for long enough to get a moan and called it a victory, even if his own trousers were unpleasantly tight, now. Goody reluctantly pulled out of the kiss with a last lick along teeth, and they sat, Goody's grip loose, staring at each other, breathing deep and, really, simply enjoying the fire that was still between them after all these years.

"No. Implying you old enough to be Granpa."

Goody snorted loudly, grin coming back, "Well then, regardless of your pretty face, mon amour, so are you."

Billy shrugged, unconcerned, and pulled back to clean and sharpen the blade before he put their supplies away, and finally reached for one of his re-purposed throwing darts to hand to Goody, "Hair. Old men need sleep."

"Just for that I'm tempted to say do it yourself."

He caught the edge of rolled eyes as Billy turned his back to Goody, "Pigs fly before you say no to putting hands in my hair."

Damn. Goody took the pin and absently reached to pull into a ponytail all but the strands Billy liked loose around his face for his vanity. "You are entirely too full of yourself, Billy Rocks." A few loose loops around the root of the tail and he absently pushed the pin up from the bottom, then spun it to point down and clinched off the knot by pushing through the loops and trapping a strand of the top layer. Every move long since memorized, every shift and texture of the strands as familiar and expected as running a comb through his own hair. 

"Rather be full of *you*."

Goody smirked through the jolt of lust that thought sparked, "You said not tonight. Get that pin sharpened while I clean your *public* gun; and then we can sleep and get one day closer to some privacy."

"After you wash dishes."

"Billy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Raw milk changes flavour at room temperature with time but does not immediately go bad 'The time it takes your milk to clabber, or become sour from the lactic acid naturally produced, can be anywhere from 1-5 days',  
> so I reckon it's possible they could find a bit of milk and have it a few days after they leave a town
> 
> 2) Rumi (wiki says there was a translation in 1881... I'm going to pretend that that means there could have been some around in 1879 that just weren't famous enough to make wiki)  
>  _My words are like a ship and the sea is their meaning._  
>  Come to me and I shall take you to the depths of spirit.
> 
> 3) Buenas noche = spanish for good night


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- writer gets stuck with notion and sticks stubbornly to it. -shrug-, thank fontainebleau for the translations not being only in the notes at the end of chapter. after feedback of 'keep it closer', I remembered texts that would list references at the end of paragraphs.. that seemed a good compromise (translating in the paragraph made me grumble...). I hope it doesn't take away from hte story for you.
> 
> \- I know no korean whatsoever. google translate, fed into NAVER for confirmation, with villa-kulla having graciously checked some of it, is all I claim as 'beta' for the translations. experts can feel free to offer correction.

Following Billy back to camp, Goody saw him stiffen as they got in sight of the dying fire and had his hand on his Colt before he even felt the adrenaline spike. But Billy's steps never hesitated, and before Goody could decide to throw himself backward on the off chance he'd been missed by whatever was wrong, he caught sight of just what was up and relaxed. At least as far as letting go of his gun.

"Billy-"

"I'm fine."

They'd laid their bedrolls consciously away from each other, the way they always did when with a group. Unfortunately, the hollow wasn't that big, and Teddy and Faraday had ended up setting up.. not *near* Billy, but.. certainly nearer that he'd have chosen. Than people generally dared get to him. And on top of that, the dammed rock walls were echoing the sounds of five people sleeping.

Billy's hand touched his shoulder to pull Goody's admittedly tense attention, and he gave him a small smile of reassurance, murmuring, "I'm fine Goody,"

Goody nodded jerkily, not believing him for a second. But there was nothing to be done without starting a great many more comments, this time aimed at Billy rather than himself, which Goody would never risk.

With a last look and nod, Billy calmly, though noisier than his usual cat-footing in deference to jumpy companions, made his way past Sam to his blanket on the other side of the fire, and Goody gave his own nest a scathing look. Damned rock and its echo. Maybe being next to it would keep his own restless sleep from disturbing anyone. At least it was only Sam on his other side.

Giving up the useless mental grumble, he turned to get their supper dishes, only to stop when he found them neatly stacked. Already clean. Uh. He glanced at Sam's sleeping form. Looks like he owed someone a favour. Or someone was feeling guilty and felt they owed *him*. He gave the thought up as a waste and laid himself down on his beddings.

Working the 'meditation' that Billy had tried to teach him over the years, he built up the spinning dancer he used as his focus, lovingly smoothing each of his features into place, teaching himself that the rustling forest and snoring company that kept trying to interrupt were not dangerous. And hastily shoving away the more familiar clouds of darkness that tried to alight in him.

Eventually, he slept.  
  
  
"NAGA!" _(1)_  
_(1) GET OUT!_

..And woke with an adrenaline-fuelled jerk, instincts for only an instant trying to have him obeying the scream to get out by running. But practised reflexes won with a rough yell, "Myung-yong!" and sent him flying over the too-many things laying between him and the dim coals and on to Billy's form, jerking to sitting from what had no doubt been some nasty thrashing, still whimpering and likely ready to run even as Goody reached him.

He knew better than to actually touch Billy's panic-stiff arms, though he held his hands out near, the trick of stopping his uncontrolled leap -why the hell had he been so far away??- in time one that was getting harder with the years. Just as shouting right on waking took effort, "Gwenchana! Gwenchana, jagiya!" _(1)_  
_(1) It's ok! It's ok, darling!_

He was *aware* of the knives dangerously near his throat and chest as those unnaturally-huge eyes stared at him without real awareness, mutters of "Geudeul-iogoissda..." _(1)_ still trying to send everyone away from a long-past danger; uncomprehending, if they even heard, his rendition of either name *or* reassurance. But he would never let that stop him offering every comfort he could. "Neoneun nawa hamkkeissda, neoneun *anjeonhada*. Saranghae." _(2)_ That last was one word at least that he knew he'd taught himself to actually pronounce perfectly, and there was finally a flicker of focus toward him as Billy continued to pant, the knives pulling back into position to keep him at bay rather than attack.  
_(1) They are coming..._ _(2) You're with me, you're *safe*. I love you._

On his knees next to Billy's feet, his hands held out non-threateningly, he kept their eyes locked and kept talking, every variation he could remember on the same theme, Billy's silence his first step to awareness. Even after all this time he had to work to try to speak remotely right when his heart was pounding and his tongue thick, his mind stubbornly trying to put sharp edges where it should flow, rolling what should be sharp, "Neoneun na-ege anjeonhada. Nan yeogi iss-eoyo. *Saranghae*." _(1)_ Billy's blades started to lower, moonlight flashing on the edges, as the confusion of trying to understand Goody brought him further into the present, and Goody dared to carefully shuffle closer and raise his hands, not stopping until they settled with familiar ease along Billy's smooth jaw, close enough, now, that he could see rising emotions flowing over shadowed skin. That's it, my love, hear me; I'll keep you safe. "Neoneun *jayu*. Nan yeogi iss-eoyo. Neoleul *neomu* salanghae." _(2)_  
_(1) You're safe with me. I'm here. *I love you*. (2) You're *free*. I'm here. Love you *so much*._

His words choked in gratitude as he felt Billy lean into his touch rather than jerk away as he sometimes did, seeing dark eyes widening, this time with blessed recognition. Goody made himself keep talking, down to a gravelly mumble that he knew Billy would barely understand even on a good day, "Uliga hamkke issseubnida. Anjeonhan. Saranghae, Myung-yong. Saranghae." _(1)_  
_(1) We're together. Safe. I love you, Myung-yong. I love you._

*His* Billy's head dropped with a quiet moan of old exhaustion, his knives entirely lowered, his forehead finding its familiar spot on Goody's shoulder, and Goody released his hold with a ragged sigh to let him settle, one hand curving gently into bundled hair, the other smoothing over rock-hard shoulders, his own head dropping tiredly to rub their cheeks together gently. Ready to crouch in the painful position until kingdom came if that was how long it took, muttering the same mantra of safety and love over and over, "Ulineun anjeonhada. Saranghae." _(1)_ He was awake enough, now, that the once-foreign words felt as familiar as the good bayou French he'd grown up with. As loaded with memories and emotions, all of them wrapped around the man now weakly leaning on him and needing his soothing touch and his care as much as Goody always needed Billy's.  
_(1) We're safe. I love you._

With Billy on the way to calm, and his own pulse settling, Goody's awareness ballooned back outward with a dizzying whoosh and he felt movement too damn near for safety and tightened his arms in protection before he turned his head, reality crashing in on him. Sam. The gambler and the farmer.. Almost immediately, before Billy's raw nerves tore him out of Goody's arms, Sam caught his eye from his crouch just past Teddy's empty blankets and gently waved his hands up and down in reassurance. There were damn few people Goody would believe so easily, but Sam he trusted; and so he wrapped himself back around Billy, hurriedly renewing his mutters, "Gwenchana, Myung-yong! Anjeonhan! Ulineun anjeonhada. Naneun maengse." _(1)_  
_(1) It's OK, Myung-yong! Safe! We're safe. I swear._

He stayed aware enough, now, to know Faraday was still on Billy's other side, sitting tense but still, and the others awake, no snores echoing, but also not coming near. Not saying a word over Goody's mutters. He intensely disliked their exposed position, but as long as Sam said they wouldn't be attacked, taking care of Billy came first. They'd deal with the backlash as necessary; at least he reckoned with Sam here, they'd ride away with the supplies they'd rode in with. He only had to keep Billy safe.

"Goody." The mutter was rough from whatever hell his dreams had taken him to, but Goody knew his name in that accent, no matter how thick, and took a long, shaky breath of relief to hear it, tightening his hold as his words dried up, knowing his lover had made his way back to him. 

Billy carefully raised his head and met Goody's eyes, strain still visibly draining his face of its usual hard-earned peace, a flare of the coals sending dancing sunset across his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes like a splash of yellowy-blood, "Nae salang." _(1)_  
_(1) My love._

Goody tried to smile back, "Saranghae, Billy; yeong-wonhi." _(1)_ They weren't words he could ever say with an audience; and even speaking in tongues left him feeling exposed, now that he remembered the people around them, knowing he hadn't shielded his heart. But these were some of the rare times that Billy actually seemed to need, *want*, words and promises, and he wasn't about to deny him.  
_(1) I love you, Billy; forever._

They both flinched at more movement besides them, this time swivelling shoulder to shoulder on Teddy, reappearing from wherever he'd gone when Goody had probably come close to trampling him, Billy's knives back up and Goody's hand fumbling as it wanted a riffle and settled on his Colt. 

"Easy, Goodnight."

Goody raised his eyes to Sam, still crouched watchfully nearby, and finally noticed, with the movement, the gear that Teddy held out. *His* gear, he confirmed with a squint at his now empty spot on the other side of the fire. When his eyes got back to Teddy, the farmer nodded to his blankets near Billy and set his armful down before warily picking his own supplies up, muttering uncomfortably but without disgust, "You coulda just said you needed to be near to serve him."

Blinking at the boy's continued nonsense, however handy it was, right now, Goody ran a tight look over the rest of the gang. Emma, laying against another rock wall, beyond Sam's crouch, nodded with that no-nonsense firmness of hers and curled back into her nest as Teddy made a spot nearby. He turned to look at Faraday, sitting on his beddings and giving him and Billy a wary look, but Goody's experience insisted it was aimed at Billy's jerking awake with knives that Faraday knew he could throw rather than anything else; he still kept up his stare until the man rolled his eyes and laid back down, though Goody suspected he kept one eye on them. Vasquez, apparently having never got up from his tense rest beyond Faraday, gave him a bored shrug and nodded past him at Billy before dropping his hat back over his eyes to pretend to sleep. 

He heard Sam get up and no doubt make his way back to his own abandoned bed, and Goody looked at Billy. Even if the group was fine with them sleeping near each other, that still left them all in a small space. But Billy shook his head and shifted to lay back down, so Goody nodded acquiescence and moved to spread his blankets within an inch of Billy's. 

He kept his fingers close enough to feel Billy's warmth; and stayed awake, keeping up an easy rub between the back of his fingers and Billy's, which would keep Billy from sleeping too deep. They were both going to be wiped out when they got that room. Which was unfortunate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it was not clear ('cause that'd hardly be the first time I wasn't as clear as I thought I was), Myung-yong is Billy's original name, in this AU.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd meant to post this at the same time as the last, but.. things went a little awry, -shrug-

Jerking up suddenly out of sleep, Billy had a blade in his hand and was desperately looking for danger through terrifyingly groggy eyes when he felt Goody's familiar callused fingers touch his cheek; stilling the muscles getting ready to fight. Blinking quickly, he turned to the man sitting up besides him, moving stiffly but looking at him with un-injured reassurance. Keeping the focus on his lover's trusted eyes, Billy lowered his weapons as scattered memories of the night before slammed back into his awareness. Damn. He made himself slowly look around again in the dull early-morning light, and immediately found Chisolm crouched unmoving across the fire, watching him carefully. The pan in his hand probably having made the sound that woke Billy. 

"Joesonghabnida." He knew the mutter wasn't properly sincere as he reluctantly put his knives away, but it was the best he could do. Even if this was probably the second time he'd drawn weapons on their fellow travellers.

"Sorry?"

Billy was frowning up at Chisolm for the repetition when he heard Goody snort besides him; sounding tired, to his practised ear, "That'd be what he said, as well, Sam."

Billy kept a flinch at the slip buried by checking the rest of the camp for more people he'd scared without actually meaning to, but Sam and Vasquez seemed the only ones near, at the moment, and the Mexican was apparently focused on inspecting the boot in his hand.

Goody patted his shoulder before getting up, "I'll get coffee going in a minute, cher. We both need it."

Nodding agreement, Billy deliberately drew his cloak of public stoicity around himself as Goody left the camp to answer the call. And then, with harshly-forced calm, went to sit on the log near Goody's old friend. The more pieces of last night came to him, the grimmer his thoughts went. Strangers were annoying enough on a normal day; they'd make life even more unpleasant with having seen him so weak. He should have known better and stayed awake. Or camped separately; or agreed when Goody-

"I don't know a word of Chinese, but I could still hear Goody's accent butchering whatever he was trying to say."

Billy tensed, barely keeping it from showing, hyper aware and ready to fight as he slowly turned to look at Chisolm. Only to find him watching him with a perfectly casual calm. Even under Billy's narrow-eyed stare, his eyes stayed clear and without judgement. Not a trick many could manage. Especially for the long minutes Billy held it.

He heard Goody's familiar steps coming back before he gave in and answered the silent question. "When I wake from the nightmares," he shifted his gaze blindly off past the man's shoulder, seeing rough curving darkness rather than the early morning forest, "My mind is far in the past. When hearing anything but Chinese or Korean was cause for.." Cries and shouts. The stink of fear and death and every terrible thing that could happen to a body between the two.

He slowly met Sam's eyes, surprised at himself for suddenly being willing to trust the man, for all Goody'd sung his praises for years. "Hearing English makes the panic worse, no matter the words," he turned his head to find Goody, now practising his usual charm on Mrs. Cullen near her pack, Teddy furtively watching them from next to his rolled blankets, "There are times I do not remember how to *understand* English."

"Goody's Chinese-"

Billy turned to him and interrupted mildly, "Korean." The last time -*only* time- he'd made that distinction before had been to Goody; long, long ago, now. But it seemed a day for new things.

He watched Sam's brows fly up in nothing but curiosity with reluctant admiration for that being the limit of his reaction.

"When stressed, Goody's Korean is worse than his English, yes," Billy deliberately allowed his lip to twitch up to share the knowledge that their mutual friend relished his Southernly thrashing of the tongue he shared with Yanks, and was rewarded when Sam snorted, the flash of teeth a silent agreement. Shrugging, Billy continued more seriously, hearing Goody approaching and, as always, feeling a layer of tension fade with it, "And when I wake, I do not remember the months of practise it took for me to understand his accent. But it is not English and I can understand enough to recognize he means no harm until my mind wakes properly." Enough to recognize someone that was claiming to care for him, even if the man was a stranger. The shock of a stranger saying they loved him was sometimes more than he could rationalize, but remembered hatred and fear were hard to maintain in the face of Goody's voice and eyes.

Billy looked down, knowing Goody would be looking back as his lover wordlessly crouched next to him with the makings for coffee, closer than he normally would in company, closer than he had yesterday. But considering the show they'd put on last night, Billy agreed it wasn't worth starving themselves here. He tilted his knee enough to press against Goody's shoulder in approval and thanks, the quick grin he got in return adding itself to the thousands in his memory that kept him warm, and then got up to take a piss of his own.  
  


As much as he knew Billy could more than take care of himself, Goody'd been glad to find him calm and apparently having some sort of actually *two*-way conversation with Sam. He still thought they might be better off giving their excuses and moving on, and that they'd be met with sighs of relief for the offer; most decent folks not appreciating the company of crazy men who drew weapons in their sleep. Though Emma had actually seemed *more* welcoming when he'd stopped to say good morning. Made a long-silent part of him want to help her.

"I have to admit, if I expected someone to jerk me awake, I would have thought it would be you."

Goody grimaced, not looking over as he opened their coffee tin; not needing to say aloud that what Sam remembered was still true. It was only a matter of time before it'd be Goody shouting or screaming in the wee hours if they stayed with Sam's little gang. The jitters that had left him alone as he watched over Billy's sleep stirred at the reminder of just *why* they were travelling with company.

He'd learned the lesson well and kept his sleep-deprived and rattled attention on getting their coffee started before trying to comment. But then continued to stare into the flames as he debated what it was his place to say.

"Mr. Rocks mentioned why you were butchering yet another language."

In spite of the tension, Goody snorted, smirking back at the still too-damned-astute man, "Billy doesn't mind." Not that he hadn't *tried* to learn to speak the language right, for Billy's sake. There were so few things that Billy needed, compared to Goody's general lack of usefulness. He was *good* at languages, once upon a time! Billy was far better reason than family tradition to go learning a new tongue, but that had yet to be enough for Goodnight to not make his man laugh softly when he tried to say sweet nothings in Korean. 

Sam rolled his eyes at him, holding up his hands, "I don't want to know this, Goodnight."

And Goody's good mood froze automatically at the implication, jitters sending fight or flight ice flashing through his veins until Sam's steady gaze burned through the reaction, his hands still up, eyes calm. 

"At ease, Goodnight."

Goody grimaced at Sam's gentle tone, disgruntled with the way his pulse still galloped faster than a damned horse. He really *was* getting old if missing a night's sleep was enough to make him forget the man Sam was.

He tried to fake a casually-raised brow when Sam leaned closer, his voice dropping to a barely audible mutter, "Teddy seems to have enough romanticized notions of the duties of a servant to write off any slips. You'll have to watch yourselves, as I'm sure you always do, in town, but the rest of *these* people aren't going to make trouble, Goodnight." 

Goody snorted weakly, muttering back, "You better hope not. Billy tends to throw first when he thinks we're being threatened."

"Hairpins?"

The memories attached to that word were enough for Goody to brush off the remnants of his reaction and find a bit of a fond smile, "Along with anything else that'll take an edge; but yes, he thoroughly enjoys aweing people with that trick."

Sam grinned, "Including you?"

The sudden memory of watching Billy's, at the time far-too-slight, body flickering almost too fast to follow across that saloon, not-quite-white shirt come loose from workman-loose black pants and making a wing behind his every move. Ragged feathers of hair flying with every whip of his head from target to target. Carrying too few knives and no gun, knuckles dripping blood as he used broken glass, cutlery, and knives taken from the men attacking him. Face barely showing mild annoyance through the absolute concentration.

Goody'd been frozen halfway to rising to intervene when the rowdy idiots had started to make trouble, his mouth indeed dropped in awe at the exquisite whirlwind.

He snapped out of the memory when Sam started chuckling, and could only shrug at the amused grin being aimed at him. 'Awed' was a very incomplete understatement.

Sam's smile faded to a more searching look, "And does he often wake up looking for targets?" 

Goody narrowed his eyes in quick protective annoyance, but then forced himself to breathe it out. It was a fair question. And Billy *had* obviously spoken to him already. "Not often. I'm the one that usually shortens our sleep." He ignored Sam's sympathetic grimace, turning to look at his gently steaming water; he wasn't in the mood to go into his own demons, right now. They were quiet enough that he'd rather avoid spooking them as long as he could. "Feeling surrounded with people when he sleeps. Brings out old buried memories." He didn't add that even awake the man was tense when surrounded. Goody knew damned well that that slightly-forced swagger of Billy's was from more than his natural flamboyance; was his way of holding an image as a shield against the world and against his own tension. A match and a perfect foil to Goody's not-*always*-real extravagant storytelling. Certainly more effective than when Goody tried to force hatred to take his body and ended up riding an equally scared wildcat instead.

"..Ah." Goody glanced up, unsurprised, now, to find nothing but calm acceptance, watching Sam relax and finally turn his attention to finishing his fry bread, tone turning to idle curiosity now that he'd gotten the information he wanted, "Korean sounds like it would have taken a while to learn."

Goody nodded, pulling the pot off the heat to pour Billy a cup as he heard the man finally start down the slope behind him, "It did. More'n a dozen years and I still couldn't hold an actual conversation," he ignored Sam's curious glance, most likely at the years. That Billy not only put up with him after all this time, but actually seemed to see worth in him, was a mystery that made his best efforts not to bite his tongue learning his lover's native language seem pitiful payment indeed. "Or be understood by anyone other than Billy, I expect. It's enough to make me not a threat when he jerks awake; enough that we keep each other entertained on the road by slipping words in Korean or French in the conversation." He knew Billy had no one else on this side of the Pacific to speak to; some bad days he thought that was the only real reason Billy stayed with him, and it only made him more desperate to learn. That Billy had as much difficulty wrapping his beautiful mouth around French, and yet stubbornly kept trying, had been enough to pull him from self-pity a few times. As Billy sat back down on his log besides him, Goody met his eyes before looking at Sam with a slightly-forced grin, "Also been handy in a tight spot or two." Pissed the assholes off even more to hear a foreign language, but if a couple words shared timely information, it was worth it.

Sam nodded, "Sure, sure." The look he turned on Billy was suddenly measuring, though, and Goody couldn't help but tense, "Well? Will you stay with us, Mr. Rocks?" his eyes twitched toward where Goody knew Teddy was still brooding and he relaxed, suddenly recognizing Sam's expression, a smirk coming to his lips in anticipation, "Equal shares must mean equal say. I apologize for not having known to ask you rather than only Mr. Robicheaux."

For all the humour Goody read in the words, there was also a real question, but Goody knew Billy'd already made his choice, and hearing the others approaching, no doubt to get their own morning drinks started, Goody couldn't resist playing again; might as well feed the confusion. Before Billy had a chance to answer, he picked up the now-safe to drink coffee and, still crouched, turned until he faced Billy, remembering doing this, accidentally, long enough ago that it had been a damn sight easier to swivel. He pinched his grin down to an attempt at a humble expression, bowing his head just slightly, and used both hands to hold the cup out in offering.

He knew he was the only one -possibly apart from nosey-Sam- likely to be able to recognize the laughter around Billy's eyes as he graciously took the cup. Certainly his voice held nothing but unconcerned surety, "Where Goodnight goes, I go."

Goody let his wild grin escape, knowing if they were alone Billy'd be tackling him to the ground, right now, that emotionless mask dissolved under such fierce joy... He couldn't manage to remind himself that he didn't deserve it when Billy was watching him with such promise of pleasures to come.

"Well all right, then. Glad to have you with us, Mr.-"

"Billy."

Sam nodded as Goody got himself under control and sat down right next to Billy, accepting with both hands the cup he passed to him and taking a couple sips before giving it back to Billy. They were so close he'd hardly have to lean at all to lay his head against Billy's shoulder and catch up on some of his missed sleep. He settled for another sip of coffee and letting his eyes droop and his mind drowse as everyone started chattering, Billy at his side on watch. It was going to be a long day; any rest would be good. At least it was Emma that had sat a generous space on his other side; she was a pleasant, quiet, presence.

Some fry bread appeared in front of him about the time one of Billy's hands landed on his shoulder, tugging him slightly more upright, and he looked up vaguely, "D'you say you needed a trim, mon cher?" He was pretty sure that'd been on the books for this morning before the night had happened, and if they were staying with the others...

Billy's eyes softened and he leaned closer, his accent deliberately thickened up and voice low until no one else was likely to understand, "Keep energy for staying on horse, hal-abeoji. They have enough show."

Silently pleased that Billy actually felt comfortable enough even with the company around them to speak in his long-hidden native tongue without flinching, even if too low to be really heard, Goody frowned, mouthing the words around his mouthful of bread and trying to match them to anything he'd learned. Billy watched him, chewing on his own breakfast with a grin lighting his eyes until Goody had enough and growled, "Alright, nae agdang _(1)_ , what did you just call me?"  
_(1) My scoundrel._

If only they were alone, he knew Billy'd be grinning at him madly, right now. "Grandpa."

Oh hell. Goody threw his head back and laughed, ignoring the heads that turned to stare at him, unaccountably pleased at the nickname that was apparently going to stick to him, now.

Been a long time since he'd given up any thought of surviving to turning white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joesonghabnida = sorry  
> hal-abeoji = grandfather  
> nae agdang = my scoundrel (or villain)


End file.
